


Losing My Religion

by Mapthesoul



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Feels, Bickering, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Its the only way these two can communicate, Johnny Silverhand Being An Asshole, Loss, Soft Johnny Silverhand, Suicidal Thoughts, honestly this is just gonna be a rough ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mapthesoul/pseuds/Mapthesoul
Summary: That was the point of this whole journey, wasn't it? To get him out of her head? Shut him up, make him disappear, have some peace and quiet in her head once again?So, why does it all feel so wrong?After a side gig gone wrong and a nasty shock to the head, Johnny and V are left unable to communicate.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V
Comments: 18
Kudos: 82





	1. Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh life, is bigger  
> It's bigger than you  
> And you are not me  
> The lengths that I will go to  
> The distance in your eyes  
> Oh no I've said too much  
> I set it up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've literally never shared any of my writing despite being an avid FF reader and writer for a decade. Literally over a decade. But I love the dynamic between V and Johnny, and therefore had to put them through some angst. The plan is to keep this short, but as you'll see in the chapters, once I start, I literally cannot shut up. This came to my head after I heard Bellsaint's cover of Losing My Religion while I was crying and contemplating my Temperance ending. Chapter 1 is as fun as this gonna get, the rest will be misery. Buckle in, chooms.  
> "This is dialogue spoken out loud", 'this is dialogue in V's head'

Shit. Shit shit shit.

This was supposed to be an easy gig. Find the guy that had the stolen the priceless antique, beat him down until he told her where it was, avoid the insane amount of scavs loitering around. Easy.

But things were never easy for V. As she simply stood there, staring down at the man she’d been trying to find, she was reminded of that.

“I know I’m not Trauma Team,” her digital parasite glitched into existence, “but I think the guy you were looking for is less alive than you hoped for.” Well at least one of them was enjoying themselves. Even if it was at the others’ expense.

“What makes you say that?” she played along.

“Well, the lack of his _entire head_ ,” he gestured his hands wildly for dramatic emphasis, “is probably a good indicator.”

“Probably.”

V crouched down and swiped the man’s wallet, keys, anything else in his pockets that might prove to be a clue once she had a chance to sit down and examine them.

She paused, glaring at where the man’s head would have been, blaming him for the headache she could feel beginning to pinch in the back of her neck. She was left to glare at the ridiculously large area of red, stained dirt just above his neck stump. Sighing, she hung her head.

She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe this gig _had_ been a mistake.

Johnny glitched close in front of her, standing over the dead body, and looming over V’s crouched form. She braced herself for what she knew was coming as she glared at his shins, knowing she probably looked like a pouting child.

“What? What’s that I heard? Did you just think that you maybe you shouldn’t have taken this gig? That maybe when Night City’s reborn legend tell you something stinks; he might have some fuckin’ insight? That maybe, your pal, your choom, good ol’ Johnny was right?!”

She _really_ didn’t want to admit to any of that.

Knowing better, and she really did know better, V glanced up at Johnny. He had his hands on his hips and was leaning down over her with one of the biggest shit-eating grins she’d seen on his face yet. She felt his mischief and mirth mingle and mix well with her own, and she felt a laugh building in her chest. Not for the first time, she was filled to the brim with an overwhelming sense of warmth. A warmth she hadn’t put a name to quite yet, she didn't think she was ready to put a name to it. She needed to change her line of thought before he caught on.

Instead of laughing, she rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Johnny, literally no part of my brain thought any of that.” She scoffed as she dusted off her pants, turning from him and stretching a little.

He materialized to her line of sight again, this time leaning against a nearby crate and lighting up a cigarette. He looked at her, unimpressed, “V. What’s the point in even trying to lie to me? Me?!” He gestured at himself grandly.

V simply walked by, making a point to not look at him, and started grabbing any loot she could. They’d left ammo and grenades strewn around everywhere, and she’d be an idiot not to take it.

“Ya know what, Johnny? You? Right now? Not my favorite person.”

At that he barked a laugh, and V did turn to look at him. He sneered over his aviators to make his point, “Princess, I’m never your favorite person.”

She felt her brow furrow in confusion, she knew the dick heard most of her thoughts, if not all of them. How stupid was he?

She shook her head and laughed a little, “Johnny, how can you even-” her retort was cut short, both their heads snapping to the sudden noise in the doorway.

They’d been too busy bickering like an old married couple to remember to secure the area, and the scav looking straight at her with his hand raised to sound the alarm was the result.

Johnny cursed, glitching out of existence, as V quickly drew and shot her gun, the scav’s brains painting the wall behind him. But it was too late, and the sound of yelling and heavy footfall was quickly coming down the hall.

V spun and scanned the room for an exit. How could she have started waltzing around the room, without pinpointing an exit first? What was wrong with her, how could she think she’d be allowed to have a moment of brevity? V didn’t have the luxury of moments like that, of happiness, goofin’ round with a choom, without a care in the world. No, V thought bitterly, things never worked out that nicely for her.

A hand shoved her down behind some more crates, and she hit the ground roughly, “No time for that shit, V. Keep your head on straight, we can throw a pity party when we get home. Fancy tequila and everything.”

The warehouse was now full of ugly, chromed out, scavs on the hunt. V still had the element of stealth, but one wrong move and this would go tits up. Fast.

‘No tequila. That’s all we drink these days, and its fuckin’ gross.’ She checked her gun, made sure she was loaded and ready, ‘We’re gonna have some vodka tonight.’ She crept along the line of crates, waited until the nearest gonk turned away, sneaking up behind him and choking the life out of his body. She then rolled over to the other line of crates. If she could keep this up, she could slip from this damn room out the main door without them even noticing.

‘No, all we drink these days is that nasty ass sugary whatever you keep getting from that talking vending machine.’

Another scav taken down, and she vaguely heard Johnny mentally equating her silent movements to the grim reaper. He kept blipping in and out of existence as she moved through the room, lounging on top of whatever she was taking cover behind, or the nearest wall at the moment.

‘I’m not the fuckin’ Reaper, and so what? I like that stuff, not my fault you don’t have a sweet tooth.’

She nearly tripped over the body of the last guy in her rush to grab a third, a breath away from being seen. The near misstep caused her heart to skip a beat, or was that Johnny’s?

‘There you go, lyin’ again. You just like flirtin’ with the fucking vending machine.’

‘What?!’

‘You heard me,’ he paused to let V concentrate on hiding the body of the fourth guy. What a gentleman. ‘You like standin’ round and chattin’ up the damn AI.’

‘I do not flirt with Brendan. He’s just sweet, it’s refreshing.’

‘No, V. The drinks are sweet; _Brendan_ is a digitally created personality.’

V turned to smirk at Johnny. The look she gave him made him freeze in place, narrowing his eyes.

‘What?’ he had clearly realized the irony in this argument.

She shrugged, ‘Maybe you are right, for once.’

Johnny glitched to kneel by the crate right in front of her and raised a brow, this was rare. ‘About?’

They were crouched behind a small pile of boxes. If he’d been physically there, their knees would have knocked and she was sure she would have felt his breath on her face. V was filled with warmth again, but this time she knew for a fact it was Johnny’s feelings, an echo in her head about the light in her mischief filled eyes. She felt her smirk widen, and she winked.

‘Maybe I _do_ like flirting with digitally constructed personalities.’

Johnny rolled his eyes, but had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his own amused smile. ‘Oh, fuck off.’

She would do no such thing, a true and genuine smile out of Silverhand? Shit, V should quit and become a full-time comedian. She raised her eyebrows suggestively, ‘Come on, Silverhand. I’m admitting you were right, maybe I do have a hard on for digital boys.’

Again, V would never learn. These fleeting moments of warmth, of jokes, and suppressed smiles, were not made for her. They never lasted.

V had been trying to pry Johnny’s hands from his face, but something had knocked against her shoe. As she looked down, it was like time slowed. Her brain decelerated to a crawl, but Johnny’s hadn’t. He forced her to throw her entire body out of the way, just as the grenade went off. Her head remained in a daze until a bullet grazed her shoulder. Sucking in a breath and ducking behind some cover, the world seemed to catch up to normal speed again. So much for stealth. She was back in the far corner of the damn room she’d started at.

Cursing under her breath, she readied her gun with shaky hands. Johnny was nowhere to be seen, only leaving a heavy feeling of guilt in her chest. She’d discuss that with him later, wasn’t his fault she couldn’t keep her focus. She should fucking know better. V managed to take down three more of the bastards, before catching another bullet in the arm.

Her wandering thoughts, circling how funny it might be if she ended up with her own silver hand from this stupid gig, were interrupted by her holo lighting up. River had absolutely shit timing. She fully intended to ignore the call as she turned back to her surroundings, but Johnny answered it for her. Did he just access her holo? How long has he been able to access her holo?

“V?”

Shots flew by her head, and she grimaced. “Hey River, kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Were those bullets? Where the hell are you? Tell me, I’ll come to you!” River seemed panicked by something. She thinks she saw some blood and grime on the side of her face in the video.

Using a nearby reflective piece of sheet metal, she took some lucky blind shots around the corner and managed to down a couple of them. She opened her mouth to tell him not to worry about it, but was distracted as Johnny crouched down in front of her. The two stared at each other for a moment, her blinking and confused, and Johnny looking angry and disgusted. River kept yelling into her ears. It finally registered that Johnny wanted her to tell River where she was, but would rather throw up than actually say so.

It was her turn to glare back at Johnny, “Don’t worry about it River, I’m…” she trailed off as she saw River’s eyes light up.

“Okay, V. Sit tight, I’m on my way.” With that the ex-cop hung up, and she was left gaping at Johnny.

‘Did you just send him my coordinates?!’

All she got from him was a ‘hmph’ before he fucked off into her brain again.

Well, now she was pissed. She’d fuckin’ finish this fuckin’ gig, and then Johnny was gonna get his favorite lecture. The one about fucking boundaries.

She swiftly stood and emptied her mag into the room. Come one, come all, come get your fuckin’ headshots.

‘Love a girl with a good shootin’ arm.’

‘Fuck off, Silverhand. You’re not charming your way out of this.’

The nearest scav decided it was unwise to give her time to reload, smart plan. He just didn’t account for the mantis blade coming out her arm to enter his skull so fast. From there, it was a blood bath. Gonks falling one after another, you’d think they’d learn. If V was unlucky, anyone finding themselves on the other side of her sights was worse off. Wait, that wasn’t her own thought.

‘Knock it off, Johnny!’

His soft chuckle echoing in her head was cut short, and a sense of panic spiked through her instead.

‘Shit, kid. Incoming.’

Her vision began to blur as the malfunction notice filled her optics, ‘Don’t…fuckin call me…kid.’ She did her best to fight through it. She had to finish this fast. The malfunctions had been leaving her knocked out cold on the ground these days, and a scav den wasn’t the ideal place for a quick nap.

But it was no use. Her head was gonna split, and she felt bile rise as her body tried to cope with the pain of it all.

‘Come on, V. Fight it, almost done.’

“I’m fuckin’ tryin!” she growled out loud, causing confusion to be the last thing the scav in front of her felt before he died.

The pain spiked, intensified, and she lost her footing. Stumbled for just a second, but it was long enough to catch one bullet to the gut and one to the leg. She couldn’t feel it, the pain in her head overriding anything else. But she heard Johnny’s grunts of pain, knew he’d felt them where she couldn’t. Her anger flaring into a rage.

Johnny was a literal and figurative headache, but he was all she had right now. They may not want to admit it, but they were in this together. Partners. And she didn’t take lightly to someone coming after her partner.

Time stopped seeming to make sense as she struggled through the pain, her internal clock telling four seconds had passed. She felt like she’d taken a lifetime to take down four more of these assholes. Somewhere, she registered that she’d impressed her digital brain guest.

Her hearing turned to static. And it was so. Fucking. Loud.

Through the headache, she felt lightheaded. Was she losing blood? She was covered in so much blood that she had no idea what was hers and what wasn’t. This is why she hated using the blades, it was always so messy.

She vaguely registered that Johnny was yelling at her, but she couldn’t hear anything over the intensifying static. Fuck, everything hurt. She tried to keep her eyes open, tried not to puke. She needed a Bounce Back or a MaxDoc or fucking something.

Her hands kept slipping over her pouch as she stumbled behind another stack of crates. Focus. Get something for the pain, then kill these motherfuckers. Open the fucking pouch, to get something for the pain. She needed to get a pouch that was easier to open.

She didn’t hear Johnny screaming at her, didn’t see the wild panic in his eyes. She did notice once the shadow of the hulking guy was cast over her, blocking out the flickering fluorescents. She saw Johnny’s form move to block the impact, but the screeching yellow baton just phased through him. Of course, it did.

She exhaled, “Shit.”

And then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying you have to be nice, since its my first time sharing my work. Just don't be too mean lol


	2. Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight  
> Losing my religion  
> Trying to keep up with you and I don't know if I can do it  
> Oh no, I've said too much, I haven't said enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I really did not expect such a positive response. I actually didn't expect one at all, and you've all been incredibly sweet and I love you. This chapter took a while because I had to rewrite EVERYTHING. I realized all of a sudden I had like three different events in the wrong order and have been scrambling to fix it all. Oops. I've also taken some liberties with the lore of the Relic, because I can.

“Fuck!” Johnny’s own ears rang out from the impact the stun baton made. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, but what he saw made him wish he’d gone under with her.

V looked like a nightmare. She was absolutely covered in blood, most of it he knew came from the assholes she’d been slicing down, but some of it was hers. The wound on her leg was particularly concerning, a close call to her femoral artery. Even unconscious, her sharp features were slightly pinched in pain. Her hair fanned out around her head and across some of her face. She was all at once terrifying and entrancing.

The giant scav leaning down to look at her broke that trance, and Johnny scrambled to his knees to be near her. He only had a certain amount of time before she went under deep, the relic going into a lower power mode that wouldn’t let him speak or interact with her.

“V! Get up!” he yelled, as he tried to shake her shoulder. Nothing. He brushed some of the hair from her face, “Come on, kid. Wake up, this isn’t how you’re gonna go. Night City legend in the making going down in some shitty scav den? Is that what you want?”

Still nothing. “Fuck.” He’d only been violent with her the once, and had decided never again. They were closer now, understood each other better. He might even call them partners in their crazy journey. But desperate times call for desperate measures, right? He’d just let her punch him back afterwards. He reeled back and slapped her hard, “Wake the fuck up, Samurai!”

His panic was building as he watched her head just loll back into place, his hands beginning to fade away at the edges.

“The fuck is wrong with her? Her head just moved on its own!”

“You sure she’s out?”

“With that voltage? She better fuckin’ be.”

The remaining guys stepped back as they watched V’s body jerk around seemingly on its own. He didn’t give a shit how she looked to them. His form began losing shape as the Relic began to lose some power. He fought back, trying to stay around to keep an eye on his merc, but all he caught were glimpses as his own consciousness began to fade in and out.

They crowded around her and he fought.

One of them kicked her, wanting to make sure she was out. He fought harder.

All the scavs were dead, and River carefully picked V’s unconscious and bloody body up in his arms. As if she would shatter if he weren’t careful with his movements.

Once a pig, always a fucking pig. But Johnny stopped fighting.

He came to with a start, not recognizing the surroundings for a second. But he knew this room, knew this damn trailer, and as he looked over to the side, he knew the jerk that was seated at V’s bedside.

Ignoring him for the moment, Johnny looked back to V. She’d been cleaned up and bandaged, and he couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or relieved River hadn’t taken her to a hospital. V hated hospitals; Johnny hated hospitals. One of the few things they agreed on. She didn’t appear to be bleeding through the sheets she’d been tucked into, so he assumed none of her wounds were too bad. The fact that Johnny was even online again, lead him to hope that the blow to her head wasn’t so bad either.

That’s what he had hoped, at least. But as minutes turned to hours, his hope began to waver.

She was out for most of the next day, and each minute she stayed unconscious made Johnny more antsy. He hated this trailer. He hated the gonk freely touching V to adjust bandages and wipe down sweat and grime as best as he could. He hated seeing her like this. He hated the stretch of silence. Without her softer thoughts to mix into his own sharper ones, his mental landscape was beginning to look pretty ugly. He refused to dwell on what that meant at the moment.

So, he paced. And he smoked. Paced some more. Smoked a lot more. Only stopping to scratch his balls for a second, he finally found himself leaning against the opposite corner of the room, where he could keep a constant eye on her and on the ugly gonk-brained mass of muscle sitting by her bedside.

When she finally stirred, opened her eyes and groaned, Johnny kept still. Keeping his thoughts to himself as best as he could, not wanting to overwhelm her the second she woke up.

She clutched a hand to her head, most likely throbbing in pain, and groaned again.

“Wha?”

River sat up, and leaned into her line of sight, “Hey, V. Don’t move yet. You took some pretty nasty hits back there.”

Completely disregarding anything he’d said, V pushed herself to a seated position. Johnny tried to suppress a chuckle, maybe if he kept at it, he could convince her totally ignore the guy’s existence, instead of just his unneeded advice.

“River? What-” she stopped, hissing as her hand bumped the bandages near her neck as she tried to brush her hair back. Johnny watched as she leaned back gingerly, trying to asses the damage done without moving too much.

‘Well, fuck.’

‘Not so pissed off at me now, are ya? Like always, Johnny Silverhand knows best. You should be groveling at my feet.’ Johnny smirked at her, but V ignored him to continue to talking to River. Johnny glared at the side of her head; V could be a real cold bitch when she wanted to be.

She ran a hand down her face, clearly looking exhausted despite the hours she’d just slept, “I can’t believe you told him where we were…”

At that Johnny did laugh, “Nicely done, V.”

“What?”

V looked startled at River’s question; clearly not aware she’d spoken out loud. “Huh? I uh…what?”

“You can’t believe _who_ told me where…. wait, what do you mean ‘ _we_ ’? Was there someone else there with you?”

“No, uh, I meant… I’m a little out of it, sorry.” V tried to smile at the questioning look of concern in her friend’s eye.

“Nah, V. Keep it up. Maybe he’ll think you’re psychotic and actually keep his distance. I’m all for it.” Johnny tried again, but got no response. He groaned, “C’mon, V. You actually mad that I told him where to find ya? Your ass was about to be scavenged for fucking parts before he found you. Found us. Those dumbasses would’ve pulled the chip trying to figure out what it was and killed us both. ‘Sides, you finally get to wake up in the pig’s bed. Bet you made all his dreams come true.”

Instead of responding to any of Johnny’s absolutely valid points or very funny joke, she began to fidget a little and cast a glance around the room. She sat up a little straighter and asked River for some water, and Johnny huffed, “Fine, you miserable bitch. Let’s see how long you can keep this up.” He crossed his arms and leaned further into the corner, lighting up one of his smokes.

“Does something…feel off to you?” She asked quietly once River left the room. Her smoky voice was rough and strained, like she always sounded after a bad malfunction. Johnny hated the sound of it. 

“Wow, V. A whole two minutes. Are we speaking again now?”

River came back before she could respond, and she gratefully gulped down some water.

“What were you even doing there, V?” River asked once she’d drank about half the bottle of water. She set it down on the side table, and he quickly reached to grab it and place it on the coaster that was nearby. V rolled her eyes while he wasn’t looking, and Johnny couldn’t help the amused huff that left him. That warm feeling coming back to his chest as he continued to watch her.

V’s brow furrowed and she absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, shaking her head a little.

‘Something’s not right.’ She thought again.

“Ahh, found your inside voice again, have you?”

She caught River’s expectant gaze and mentally stumbled for a second, “Oh, uh, a gig.”

“A gig? At a run-down abandoned warehouse like that?”

“Well, I was actually following a lead that was supposed to help me close out the gig.” As she trailed off, the image of the guy with the missing head came to both their minds. Along with an intense wave of amusement as V thought back to them bickering over whether or not his missing body part could be used to pronounce him dead. V quickly covered her laugh with a cough, and Johnny just shook his head.

“Uh huh.” River sighed, “Guess I should know better than to ask about being somewhere like that, considering what it is you do.”

She simply offered a curt “hm.”

‘What, no comment on that tone right there?’ she asked Johnny, something in River’s tone had an air of judgement to it and apparently did not sit well with V.

“Why? You’re always tellin’ me to shut up and fuck off. Maybe we should see how you like being ignored this time.”

She looked around the room again, then out the window.

‘Hey…Johnny?’

He glared at her, calling his bluff. She either knew he couldn’t stand to be quiet, or knew that he couldn’t ignore her. The idea of either being true kinda pissed him off. “What?”

‘Fuck…something’s not right.’

She finally had Johnny’s attention now, and he flicked his cigarette hard enough that, had it been real, it would have hit River in the head. “What is it? What are you feeling?”

She turned back to River, “Hey, how long was I out?”

River shrugged, leaning forward in his seat and lightly resting his hand on V’s exposed forearm, “Well it was like 4 am when I found you, and its about that time again. Almost a whole day, I guess.”

“Aw, c’mon V. Don’t let him touch you more than he has to. I don’t wanna feel that shit.” But she was busy looking off into space, lost in thought. Johnny cautiously tried to look in and see what was bothering her, but he didn’t have to.

A single thought abruptly rang clear in her mind, ‘It’s too quiet.’

The thought was so strong, in fact, that she ended up repeating it out loud.

River looked at her, confused, “What? What are you talking about? The kids are making a ruckus right outside the damn window. I was gonna ask if they were bothering your head or not.”

She was suddenly sat rigidly straight in the bed, scanning the room. Searching for something, her eyes beginning to look a little frantic. Johnny felt his brow furrow as she glanced over and passed him once. When she looked passed him the second time, he found himself pushing away from the wall, shoulders tense and a small pit of dread settling in his gut.

He tried to reach out to her, tried to grasp onto any of her thoughts. But it was no use, her thoughts racing too fast for him to even catch a glimpse of what was happening.

“V, what the fuck is wrong with you? What’s goin’ on?” When he didn’t get a response, felt her panic continue to build, he took a step toward the bed.

“V.” He tried again for a soothing and firm tone.

She took in a sharp breath, suddenly pulling her legs up under chin and clutching at the roots of her hair. She was freaking Johnny out.

“No…no, no, no, no, no fucking way,” she looked up, searching River’s eyes for answers to questions she hadn’t yet asked, “What the fuck happened?!”

River held out a hand, as if she were a cornered animal, and Johnny’s hatred for the man was renewed.

“V. Chill out. You took a blow to the head with an electric baton. You were bleeding out the ears and everything, thought it fried your brain. Scared me pretty bad there for a sec.” River paused, looking like he’d suddenly gained some enlightenment, “Oh, I see. Yeah, it might scar kinda bad. It looks like a nasty burn up along your neck and behind your ear.” The man looked apologetic.

Johnny scoffed, thoroughly done with this guy. “V. The gonk thinks you’re scared of scars. Scars, V. Better keep your wrists out of sight, he might clutch at his pearls.”

The only response he got was V’s accelerated breathing, and a strange feel of lightheadedness. As if his own brain needed oxygen. He looked back at her sharply, taking note of how fast her breaths were coming in. She was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“V. I don’t know why you’re playing the silent game with me right now, but you need to fucking breathe.”

Its then that he felt her reach out to him. Through whatever fucked up connection the two of them had built. Hit him like a truck. It was such a strong longing, held such desperation to it, that he stumbled on his way over to the bed. That small pit of dread in his gut began to grow as he perched on the edge of the bed. He tried to reach back out to her. But where he could normally reach through, feel her, he found himself up against a wall of some sort. His hand that had been reaching for her shoulder, froze midair and he glared at it in growing anger and frustration.

“Johnny?”

Hearing V’s voice out loud shook him out of the moment, and faced him with an ugly reality.

He watched numbly, as she lurched to her knees on the bed. Unstable from the blood loss still, and tangling ungracefully in the sheets. But she didn’t seem to notice, her eyes still frantic.

River’s hands hovered near her, waiting to catch her if she fell. “V, who’s J-”

“JOHNNY?!” V’s throat was raw again, her husky voice coming out completely hoarse with emotion.

She suddenly clutched a hand to her throat and another to her chest, gasping for air. Johnny and River reached for her at the same time. At the sight of River’s giant hands phasing through his own, Johnny recoiled. Reminded again how he wasn’t really there for her. Couldn’t be.

She reeled back from River’s touch so fast she knocked her head against the wall with a sickening smack.

“D-don’t…touch…” V struggled to get the words out as she continued to attempt to force air into her lungs.

Johnny stopped his thoughts from spiraling into self-hatred, this wasn’t the time. He knew V could feel him. See him. That was all he needed. It was what she needed right now.

He got up and straddled V’s shrinking form, grabbing her shoulders firmly. “V! I’m right here, you stupid cunt! Breathe!”

He felt his heart sink into his stomach as she closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to make this nightmare disappear. Johnny saw tears build in the corner of her eyes, and felt his own desperation grow. His own lungs beginning to burn as she began to run out of oxygen.

“Please, V. Breathe. I need you to breathe.”

He cupped her face in between his hands, and pressed his forehead to hers. Closing his eyes, he concentrated all his thoughts into that one plea. Hoping that, despite whatever was going on, she would receive it. 

‘…I need you to breathe…’

His eyes snapped back open as he heard his own voice echo in her head, piercing through the hurricane of her own thoughts. Her eyes opened too, and by some miracle it worked, she managed to gasp a full breath of air. Coughing and sputtering, as if she’d been drowning.

Johnny moved to her side, rubbing her back soothingly, “That’s it, kid. Just like that, breathe.” He felt the pit begin to shrink; he’d reached her. She had heard him.

As she finally managed to catch her breath, she refused to look at Johnny. He couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, too focused on watching her intake air.

She shakily turned to River, “S-sorry about that, choom. Just, uh, needed…. a minute.” She forced out the fakest smile Johnny had seen yet, and the damn pig fell for it.

“Oh. Yeah, I mean passing out in the middle of all that and then waking up out of it would be confusing.” River hesitated, scanning her.

Johnny felt their shared disgust at the feeling.

V swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand over her face again. Grounding herself. “River, stop that. I’m fine. Just freaked out a bit.” She shakily got to her legs, and Johnny blipped over to her side, hand on the small of her back. Something still felt terribly wrong.

River moved to block her exit, “Wait. Where are you going while you’re like this? Stay. You need to rest a bit.”

V pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, she hated people fussing over her like this.

A single thought finally rang out in her head, ‘Vic. I need to see Vic.’

“I’m gonna go see my ripperdoc. Make sure there’s no real damage up here.” She tapped one of her pretty, long fingers to her temple.

Johnny kept a close eye on her, listening; but her thoughts were eerily quiet. Nothing for him to grasp.

At her explanation, River backed off. Agreeing with her that that was probably the best thing to do. He made her promise to check back in with him later and let him know that everything was okay. Even forced her to down the rest of the water on the way out. He still hated everything about the guy from his stupid hair, to his hideous jacket and stupid muscles, but Johnny found himself feeling a little grateful that someone was looking after V this way.

V walked out into the night, a slight chill making goosebumps rise on her bare arms. She took deep and calculated breaths, trying to keep calm. He hoped the crisp air was helping as he rubbed his hand on her arm, watching silently as she pulled up her holo. She summoned the car, stumbling into the driver’s seat and drove off erratically.

Her voice was shaky and nervous as she tentatively called out loud, “Johnny?”

Johnny materialized into the passenger seat, lighting up a cigarette, “We gonna talk about what the fuck happened back there, or you gonna just pretend everything’s fine like you always do?”

All he got was a shaky, “fuck.” V pulled up her holo again, calling Vic.

He’d had enough of her ignoring him. He turned to face her, ready to give her a piece of his mind. But as the car was suddenly illuminated by oncoming headlights, it was all he could do to swear and forcibly yank V’s wrist to the side, swerving the car out of the wrong lane she’d been driving in. She swore as she fought to right the car, and landed them in a small patch of dirt and dead grass.

As the dust settled around them, Johnny felt the day’s emotions combine and combust as anger, “V! What the actual FUCK is wrong with you?!”

He didn’t want to scream at her, knew how she reacted to it, but fuck he was so pissed off and she was fucking _scaring_ him _._

She was breathing erratically again, and the holo finally lit up with Vic’s face.

“V? You have any idea what fuckin’ time it is right now?” Vic’s sleep slurred voice came through sounding muffled.

V broke. Fat tears streaming down her face, she shoved her palms to her eyes to calm the headache that was building.

“Vic, he-he’s gone. I can’t see him. I-I fucked it all up, and now I think he’s g-gone. I can’t-can’t hear any-” V struggled to get the words out through her sobs.

“What? Who’s gone? Where are you?” Vic was wide awake now.

V didn’t cry. Not like this.

She slammed her hands against the steering wheel.

“JOHNNY. JOHNNY’S GONE, VIC.”

The pit had never really shrunk, he was just good at ignoring his shit. But now, it took root. It bloomed. It consumed. He felt like he was dying. Again.

They had joked about it so many times. But if V could no longer hear him? Could no longer feel him? Could no longer see him?

Johnny really was a ghost.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnn.  
> So yeah, I can't stand the idea of Johnny being left to his lonesome when V's sleeping. Takes me back to when I read Twilight the first time and even then I was like, "What do you mean, he just watches her sleep?!"  
> The most difficult thing for me to write this, has been the tone. Ch 1 is written extra chaotically, because I feel like that's what it would be like in V's head with both of them firing off at all times. One braincell, two bodies, lots of insults. Ooh, maybe that'll be the title of my next fic for these two.


	3. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought that I heard you laughing  
> I thought that I heard you sing  
> I think I thought I saw you try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have time to really proof or edit this one, bear with me if there's a million mistakes.

Silence rang out loudly in V’s head as she stared blankly ahead. Johnny stood directly over her and glared. He’d tried punching and slapping her, and had simply phased through. Tried to scream at her and had tried to whisper directly into her ears with no luck. No number of insults or affectionate pet names had landed either. And now that he was focusing all his energy into trying to pick up anything from her mind, all he found was silence. A whole lot of nothing as she simply looked forward, unseeing.

Johnny sat down on the edge of the chair she was slightly reclined on, a hesitant hand reaching out to trace along her forearm that rested next to his leather clad thigh. A bitter smile reaching his face as he watched goosebumps rise on the skin he traced. There was no rhyme or reason to any of the ways the damn Relic was working so far. He was able to interact with her physically leading up to this shit; everything from bashing her head into the window that first day, to her trying to wrestle his hands away from his face in that fucking warehouse. He knows, he _knows_ , that she’d heard him when he’d begged her to breathe. He’d been able to force her to swerve the car out of the way, too. But now, slight goosebumps were all he could manage. Johnny sighed, frustrated, knowing he’d take what he could. That slight reminder that he still existed meant more than he would’ve thought.

A chime from Vik’s computer broke the stagnant silence of the room, the scans he’d been running had finished. Johnny’s gaze remained on V’s face as she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, before looking directly at Vik.

“How’s it lookin’?” she asked on her shaky exhale.

Vik rolled back to V’s side, putting Johnny between the two of them, “Chips still there, kiddo. Still working.”

“Still killing me.” V closed her eyes again and let her head fall back against the vinyl of the chair. Without opening her eyes, she asked, “And Johnny? I still can’t see him or…feel him. Is he okay? Still there?”

At this Johnny finally looked at Vik. The man gave V a vaguely annoyed look that she didn’t see, his voice barely hiding his frustration at her concern for Johnny, “Unfortunately, I have no way of checking or knowing that. For all I know, the damn Relic might’ve been wiped clean of the parasite.”

V’s eyes snapped open at that. Gone was the faraway blank look, replaced by a scorching fire fixed on Vik’s face. “What?” her voice low and dripping with venom; Johnny winced.

Vik looked like he realized that might not have been the right thing to say.

“So, what? Johnny’s entire existence has been deleted? Wiped from the earth like he wasn’t here in the first place?!”

“V, that’s hardly—”

“And what? I’m being overwritten by an empty engram?”

“We can’t—”

“I’m supposed to accept that I’m gonna end up a damn vegetable, for _nothing_?!”

Vik looked exhausted, running a hand over his face and taking a deep breath before forging on; never one to back down from what he felt was right. “V, honestly, this might be for the best, okay?! From what I can tell, he’s been nothing but a distraction.” The hand resting near Johnny’s leg clenched into a tight fist. “With this you’ll have a clear head to find a way to fix the problem. Remember the goal? To find a way for _you_ to live through this bullshit. Helping Johnny” Vik’s voice dipped with disgust, “was never the point. He’s already dead. But you deserve --”

Johnny had to watch V do that thing she did with her face. The thing he hated the most. When the storm would begin to ravage outside, V would drop the shutters down around her mind. Go into self-preservation mode. Lock and bar all the windows and entrances. If you were the cause of it, more often than not, you’d fucked up and it might be the last thing you do. But V cared for Vik, as he cared for her, she’d never do anything to bring him harm. Even if she wanted to invert his face with her fist at the moment. Johnny looked closer and tried to feel what she was feeling better. Her jaw was clenched too tight, her long nails were digging into her palm, and he could feel the hurt in her chest in his own. He silently ran his fingers over her knuckles over and over again, sighing as she unclenched her fist in the slightest. Hoping against hope that it might be him reaching her subconscious or influencing her body in some way that his words no longer could.

V swung her legs over the side of the chair, right through Johnny, and stood. Roughly disconnecting herself from the port, and grabbing her bag and gun off the side table.

Vik realized she was going to leave without resolving or voicing any of what was happening. “V…” She tried to walk past him, but Vik reached out and grabbed her arm. She didn’t look at him, simply turned her head in his direction over her shoulder.

“Thanks for the help as always, Vik. But I know what I heard and felt. I fuckin’ heard his voice when I was losing my shit at River’s place; and when I almost drove into a car head on, _someone_ jerked my hand on the wheel to the side. He’s not gone.” She shrugged him off and stomped over to the door. “And he’s not a fuckin’ parasite or distraction or whatever the fuck. He’s a whole ass person, didn’t ask for any of this bullshit any more’n I did.” With that she angrily walked out of the clinic. “V!” Vik tried to call out to her, but it was no use. She had shut down, and wasn’t listening anymore. Was barely aware as she shoved past a startled Misty on the other side of the opening door. Her soft voice called out as well, but V was down and out the alleyway before she could say anything.

V made it back to her apartment in a blur. Not really coming back to herself until the door shut behind her. Her apartment was so quiet. She cleared her throat, only for the noise to slightly echo in the bathroom to her left.

‘Was it always this quiet?’

Hands on her hips she quietly surveyed her place. Johnny could feel her strain to keep any and all thoughts away. She did this occasionally when she didn’t want to share something with him. In the beginning he’d pry his way in, for lack of anything better to do. Nowadays, when he felt her put up the walls, he’d back off. They’d created boundaries, and respecting that boundary benefitted them both. But now? He knew he wasn’t the one V was trying to protect from whatever she was keeping at bay.

“This place is a mess.” V announced to no one in particular. Johnny settled in on the sofa, unable to do much else. He watched her go about the place and clean, as he chain-smoked. She froze when she reached for the week old, empty box of pizza on the table by his feet. She leaned in where he was seated, uncomfortably close to his face, and closed her eyes in concentration. Johnny held his breath, not daring to move. They both felt his heart skip that beat. V simply inhaled deep; her brow furrowed. She exhaled and opened her eyes, searching, looking right through him. She narrowed her eyes at the spot right above his shoulder and whispered, “You are _so_ lucky your digital ash disappears before it hits my damn floor.” He exhaled in disappointment as she went back to picking up the trash that was everywhere.

Cleaning the trash took all of twenty minutes. She stood there tapping her foot, hands on her hips again. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, grimacing when her hand touched the dried blood on the hair near her nape. “Ugh, I’m disgusting. Gonna shower.”

Johnny didn’t move, he didn’t follow her into the bathroom… anymore. As he heard the water turn on, he cleared his throat and tried to focus on something else. He willed his guitar to digitally appear before him, and began to just mindlessly strum some chords. Feeling the action relaxing his stress, and the hot shower V was taking relaxing hers. Both unwittingly helping the other unwind, as they looked after themselves.

She was sure she’d been in the shower for two hours, but it had apparently only been about 45 minutes. She huffed in annoyance, walking out in just her towel, and went straight to the fridge. She was gonna need a beer if she wanted to make it through this. She finished one right away, tossing the bottle into her newly formed trash heap by the door. She grabbed another and made her way to the sofa.

Johnny had stopped strumming when he felt the alcohol hit his own system. He looked up to see V walking his way, still wet from her shower, and in only a towel. He smirked, “You know if you leave the bathroom like that, I’m allowed to look as much I want, right?” He let his eyes trail her lean form, lingering on her long-toned legs, her barely hidden curves hugged by the towel, her prominent collarbone, her slender neck, and finally her eyes. He’d lie if anyone ever asked, but he found her eyes to be her most attractive feature. Deep, soulful, and always her biggest tell. He’d heard that the eyes were the window to the soul, but V was the first to make him believe it.

She bent over slightly to set her beer down on the table, and froze in place. The feeling of being watched making goosebumps erupt over her skin. “Wha?” she whipped around, looking for the cause. It was still just her in the apartment, even the window tint was active. Realization caused her face to deadpan as she looked in Johnny’s general direction.

He raised a brow as she looked vaguely his way, “Yeah, okay. Hope you enjoyed the little show.” She spun around for emphasis, nearly slipping. She cleared her throat in embarrassment, and quickly went to the wardrobe to put on some clothes. Grabbing the first oversized, comfortable shirt her hands touched, along with some plain underwear. She ducked into the bathroom again to change and finish drying off, knowing if Johnny had been there—. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew that Johnny didn’t follow her into the bathroom…anymore, at least. He thought he was sneaky in the beginning, but she didn’t really care all that much. V took the chance to apply some more ointment to her cuts and wounds, replaced the bandage on her leg and arm, before making her way back to the sofa.

Johnny grinned as she flopped on the sofa across from where he sat. He’d had both feet set on the table; knees bent to support the guitar. Instead of moving, he simply let his knees fall open to see her better. “Nice shirt, groupie.”

V turned on the tv, and grabbed her beer. As she leaned back roughly, some of the condensation dripped on her shirt. She hissed at the sudden cold against her abdomen, and looked down. Groaning, she fought the urge to go change. “In response to whatever comment you made about me subconsciously picking out a god damned Samurai shirt, fuck you.”

The room remained silent, but she felt that familiar warmth in her chest. ‘Is this all its gonna be from now on?’ She quickly shook her head to free herself of that thought, the warmth in her chest dying out fast.

V grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels. ‘Talk show, talk show, talk show, yesterday’s news, ah, here we go.’ She landed on a random soap opera, and snuggled back further into the sofa.

Johnny scoffed, “V, don’t tell me you actually watch this shit.” They both watched as the male and female leads argued in the lobby of a hotel over whether or not they should share a room. He felt his mouth tilt in amusement against his will. A good fight never hurt any of his own romantic encounters; only managed to spice up the sex.

“They sound like us.”

“No one actually fights like that and gets along.”

He looked over at V incredulously, “V, _we_ fight like that, you stupid bitch.” He ran a hand over his face, calming himself, “And we get along just fine” he grumbled.

She kept watching and laughed into her bottle, fogging up the glass rim of the bottle. “Betcha a million eddies they get the honeymoon suite.”

Johnny looked from her to the screen, somehow relieved she didn’t tune into shit like this seriously. They watched as the two actors continued to argue, only for the receptionist to finally intervene, offering them a ‘sound proof room’. He chuckled; she was right. The Lovers Suite, complete with a mirror on the ceiling, a couple different shaped tantric chairs, and a giant bed in the middle of the room.

V threw her head back and laughed, tilted her bottle towards the screen, “Boom, baby.”

Her mirth melted into his own as he watched her, her eyes glued to the screen and the bottle resting on her lower lip, sipping in between. The warm feeling in his chest was beginning to itch, he wanted to do something. Make a lewd comment, pull on her pigtails, maybe just tip the bottom of the bottle when she went for a sip. That last option is what he likely would’ve gone for, had V not just decided to chug the remaining half a beer. He rolled his eyes, unsure if this was the effect of long-term exposure to his own psyche. She was beginning to remind him too closely of himself.

Johnny’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as V suddenly sat up straight, one hand to her chest and a weird look on her face. She uttered a strained “oh, fuck.” And Johnny was sure she was gonna hurl, the Relic had been playing fast and loose with her organs as of late. He knew he couldn’t do anything, but still found himself standing, ready to close in and be near her. Comfort her somehow, her pain and unease so often his own.

But no. It wasn’t vomit that came out V’s mouth. The gonk started to cough, but was interrupted by a burp, stopped by a hiccup, leading into a sneeze. Johnny’s mouth hung open; eyes glued to V’s face. Her nose was red, her eyes were squinting and watering, and she looked completely confused and bewildered. For her grand finale, V fell back against the sofa with a soft “whoa.” Johnny was done for. It was the stupidest thing he’d ever seen, and he mirrored her, falling back against the sofa. His own eyes watering as he clutched his stomach. He hadn’t laughed this hard in years, couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He missed the change in the V’s face. The way she sat up; a look of hope tinged with a growing desperation.

Either V had had her shit thoroughly fried, or she’d just heard Johnny laugh. She couldn’t be entirely sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination; she’d never heard him fully laugh. Their days together filled with smirks, scoffs, chuckles, and the occasional shit-eating grin. When her eyes found no purchase, she closed them and focused on the sound. It was rich and deep, but also rough and raspy. There was a youthful and almost boyish quality to it, and it brought a wistful smile to her own lips.

As V shifted to be more comfortable, her leg hit the remote and changed the channel. The screen no longer displaying a foolish romantic tension, and instead a woman in a well-polished office. Their smiles died out as they listened to what she was discussing.

The therapeutic benefits to finding emotional release through a hardcore spanking session.

V didn’t need to see Johnny’s face to know what it looked like right now. She rolled her eyes and turned off the tv. But turning off the tv meant returning to what she’d been running from.

Silence.

All the mirth left him at once, like being tossed into an ice bath, as V’s own mood dropped. He sat himself back up as he watched her stalk into the armory. She came back out with her most recent loot, read to disassemble and craft things to suit her own needs. She was looking for something to occupy herself with, and she was being obvious. Or maybe he just knew her that well now. The distraction not enough, she leaned forward and turned on the radio; switching it to the oldies station she knew he enjoyed. Maybe she knew him just as well by now.

The station normally played songs from his glory days, and he appreciated that. But as he recognized the song, something even he would classify as an oldie, he reclined back into the patch of the setting sunlight streaming onto the sofa. He lit a smoke, closed his eyes, and let himself sink into the melancholic notes filling the room. 

V’s hands stuttered over the barrel of the gun she was dismantling. Just a whisper over the sound of the radio, she thought she heard a humming. This sound, she was familiar with. The guest in her mind lived and breathed music. She often caught herself humming tunes she didn’t recognize, only to realize it was because he’d been humming it. Normally, she’d tell him to knock it off, insult him, call him a dinosaur with no taste. She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat again, and forced her hands to continue their work. An act she abandoned when she heard his voice sing along with the words, an echo of an echo. The harder she strained to hear him, the further away he sounded, and she almost wanted to pull at her hair at the sheer frustration coursing through her. But as the song reached a softer point, she could hear him a little better, if only for a bit.

_‘Oh mother, tell your children_

_Not to do what I have done._

_Spend your lives in sin and misery_

_In the House of the Rising Sun’_

The song picked up again, and she couldn’t hear him anymore. As the song faded out into advertisements, she spoke softly to her hands, “This…this is shittier than I expected.” She should have expected the response she got.

More silence.

V ran a shaky hand through her hair, and let out a shakier laugh as she exhaled, “Fuuuck.” She stood and began to pace the room, her frustration and emotions threatening to boil over. She stopped in the middle of the room, closed her eyes and focused on taking deep and calming breaths. Muttering to herself that this was fine. Everything was fine. She’d been alone in her head all these years; this shouldn’t be new. She had to remain calm. She was tranquil. The ocean.

The ads ended, and the opening guitar riffs of Never Fade Away filled the room. Only for a second. V lunged for the radio and promptly hurled it out the window, hoping to be rid of the damn thing. Things never went to plan. The window was closed, the radio simply whacking into it with a loud thump and then rolling onto her floor. She seethed, ‘Why are the radios built like tanks?’ She felt pathetic.

V gathered everything she’d been working on and simply shoved it back into the bag, tossing the bag back into the armory without a second glance. Something harder than a beer was in order. Grabbing a glass, and dropping in some ice cubes, she opened her freezer to find some vodka. Instead, she found two bottles of tequila. The kind Johnny loved. Her muttered curses were the only sound in the apartment, as she tore into every cupboard and shelf she kept her drinks at. Bottle after bottle of the same shit. She finally grabbed one and threw it to the floor with a loud yell. The sound of the glass shattering and the cool liquid splashing against her feet brought her some clarity. Chest heaving with emotion, V vaguely registered that she looked insane.

She smoothed her hair back, strolling into the kitchen as if nothing had happened, and poured herself a tall glass of the tequila. “You win, Johnny. Bet you’re having a big ole’ laugh at my gonk shit today, and now you get to have that tequila you wanted.”

Her eyes watered again as she fought to swallow every last drop in the glass as fast as she could. The burn contrasted with how cold it was, but still did nothing to dull the sharp pain in her chest.

“Fuck this, I’m going to sleep.”

The last 48 hours had been entirely too much, and she was suddenly exhausted. V swayed and wobbled over to the bed, right through the shards of glass strewn about the floor, and flopped over onto her bed. Her thoughts were going to start spiraling soon if she didn’t manage to sleep first.

She was yanked back to reality by a sharp pain in the bottom of her foot. As she sat up to examine it, she was distracted by a large piece of glass clattering to the floor. V felt her eyes water again, this time completely because of emotion. The Relic couldn’t be empty. It just _couldn’t_ be. She hadn’t been the one to pull the glass from her already sore feet.

As she rubbed angrily at her eyes, she felt the hint of a nudge to her shoulder. She looked up, glaring into the empty space. “What?” Her only response was a ghostly nudge against her leg, pushing it up onto the bed. V didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry, so she settled with a spittle filled scoff and adjusted herself to lie properly on the bed. “Happy now? I’m under the covers and everything.”

She tried to sleep. She really did. But the room was so quiet. Was the apartment always this big? Was it always so cold this time of year? V shook her head to clear herself of these thoughts, only to be assaulted by worse ones. What did she expect? This was her fault. She was feeling frustrated? The one person who he could talk and interact with, was suddenly blind and deaf to everything he did or said. She’d managed to turn him into a goddamned ghost, and _she_ was frustrated? The minute, the absolute second V had started to care for Johnny, she had practically sentenced him to a second death. As she had with everyone she’d ever cared for. Johnny had been right. She was the Reaper, and no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, all she brought was death.

Johnny couldn’t look away. He’d never really let her thoughts spiral out like this, never really listened. Always quick to respond and cut that shit off as soon as he felt it crawl into their shared mind. Was this how she thought of herself? He wished he’d never let her hear the joke about the Reaper. Of the two of them, Johnny was Death incarnate. How many bodies had he left in his wake? His entire life had been full of nothing but darkness, rage, and an insatiable need to destroy. Destroy his enemies, destroy the corruption in this shitty city, destroy anyone who got too close and tried to fix him. V? She was his foil. Stubborn optimism in the face of his unrelenting pessimism. And now that his… had he even called her choom to her face? He scowled at the floor, as he realized he’d never been closer to anyone in his stupid life. He looked back to her, his best choom was lying in the dark, staring up at her ceiling and absolutely spiraling, and he’d been fucking muzzled like the rabid creature he was. He wouldn’t have the right words anyways, but he always managed to speak volumes with his gestures. Like this, he couldn’t even reach out and brush the hair away from her face, couldn’t hold her hand.

All he could do was sit there in silence and watch. Watch as she lie there through the hours of the night, eyes open, unseeing, and haunted.

The silence was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooo boy. The original draft of this chapter was V going through her day in growing frustration, and a whole lot of empty spaces and absolutely no Johnny. But that shit like, hurt my soul. 
> 
> Also if you've been binging SilverV fics like me, you might recognize some mentions of certain fics thrown in here. I couldn't help it okay, they spoke to my mind goblins.
> 
> Also Also, the cough-burp-hiccup-sneeze while drinking alcohol has happened to me before because I'm a barely functional human being, and it was fucking awful. 0/10, would not recommend.


End file.
